CHAPTER SEVEN - Fractured Calm
923 Words
The storm outside mirrored the quiet tension inside Alessandro De Luca’s room. Rain tapped persistently against the windows, the occasional rumble of thunder trembling through the thick walls of the mansion. Yet, in the dim light of the bedside lamp, Alessandro’s focus remained unshaken.
He knelt on one knee in front of Marco, his grip firm yet careful as he cradled Marco’s injured hand. Blood still clung stubbornly to the torn skin, smeared along his knuckles in dark streaks. The sight of it made Alessandro’s jaw tighten, but his touch remained gentle — far gentler than anyone would have expected from a man like him.
“Hold still,” Alessandro murmured.
Marco sat on the edge of the bed, tense but silent. His breath hitched when the antiseptic soaked into the open wound, burning like fire. Alessandro’s gaze flicked upward, catching the faintest wince on Marco’s face. He paused, as if hesitant to hurt him any further.
Marco noticed. “Didn’t know you could be gentle,” he muttered under his breath.
Alessandro didn’t respond. He wasn’t in the mood for games tonight. He reached for the bandages, slowly wrapping them around Marco’s hand with a precision that felt out of place — like he was handling something delicate, something breakable.
But they both knew better.
As Alessandro secured the final loop of the bandage, his fingertips lingered just a second too long against Marco’s wrist. The pulse beneath was steady, calm… defiant. It set his teeth on edge. He exhaled sharply through his nose and let go.
“There,” he said, voice low. “It’ll heal.”
Marco pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers slightly. “Thanks,” he said, though there was no warmth in his tone. Only exhaustion.
It should have ended there — with Alessandro standing up, walking away, and letting the night swallow whatever this moment was supposed to be. But it didn’t.
The calm shattered.
“Why didn’t you listen to me?” Alessandro’s voice cut through the room, sharp enough to draw blood. He rose to his feet in one fluid, powerful motion.
Marco blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“I told you,” Alessandro snarled, voice darkening with every word. “I told you to keep your distance. To stay the hell away from your family.”
The sudden shift from calm to fury was like a whip crack. The air in the room thickened, the space between them growing smaller despite the distance. Marco opened his mouth to speak, but Alessandro wasn’t interested in hearing him.
“No,” Alessandro snapped, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t. Don’t even try to explain. You think I don’t know what you were doing? Sneaking glances at them like some wounded animal. What part of ‘stay away’ didn’t you understand?”
Marco’s expression hardened. “I wasn’t sneaking—”
“Bullshit.” Alessandro’s voice pitched lower, rougher. He took a step closer, fists clenching at his sides. “I saw the way you looked at them. Your brother. Your guards. Like you thought they were going to save you.”
Marco’s jaw clenched. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Alessandro’s lips curled into something cold, something cruel. “And what do you think happens now? Hm? They saw you. They know you're alive. They know you’re still breathing. And they’ll come for you. They’ll walk right into the lion’s den and get themselves killed — and it’ll be your fault.”
The words hung heavy in the air, sinking deep. Marco’s chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths. He wasn’t trembling. He wasn’t breaking.
He was angry.
“I didn’t ask for this,” Marco said, voice low. “I didn’t ask to be here. To be your pawn.”
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed. “You think this is about choices?” he hissed. “You think I had a choice?”
There it was again — that flicker of something beneath the rage. Something raw.
Marco stared at him for a long moment, eyes searching. “Then what is this about?”
For a heartbeat, Alessandro said nothing. His breathing was heavier now, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He wanted to answer — wanted to shout it in Marco’s face until the walls cracked and the truth spilled out.
But the truth was too dangerous.
“It’s about control,” Alessandro finally said. The words came out quieter than he intended, colder. “And you… you make me lose it.”
Marco’s lips parted slightly. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that.
Alessandro turned away abruptly, running a hand through his dark hair, fingers tugging at the roots. His rage was still there, burning hot under his skin. But there was something else now — something he didn’t want to name.
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Marco watched his back, the rise and fall of his breathing.
“You’re scared,” Marco said softly.
Alessandro froze.
It wasn’t a taunt. It wasn’t a victory. It was just the truth — laid bare in the dark between them.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.
And then Alessandro turned his head slightly, just enough for Marco to see the edge of his profile.
“Be careful, Marco,” he said quietly. “Or you’ll find out what I really fear.”
The words weren’t a threat.
They were a promise.
And Marco… he believed him.
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